


Six Impossible Things

by WaltD



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Abarat, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaltD/pseuds/WaltD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is having sleeping problems, and everybody gets to say something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Impossible Things

**Six Impossible Things by WaltD (G, Gen)**

**Title:** Six Impossible Things  
 **Author:**   WaltD  
 **Prompt:**   Nick, Natalie, Janette; Six impossible things before breakfast  
 **Summary:**   Nick is having sleeping problems, and _everybody_ gets to say something about it.

**Six Impossible Things**

_The characters in Forever Knight were created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and are the property of Sony/Columbia/Tri-Star._

_Seems I got to have a change of scene_  
     Cause every night I have the strangest dream  
     Imprisoned by the way, yeah, it could’ve been  
     Left here on my own or so it seems  
     I got to leave before I start to scream  
     But someone's locked the door and took the key  
     Chorus:  
          Feelin' alright, (uh oh)  
          Not feelin' too good myself, (uh oh)  
     -- Feeling Allright, Joe Crocker

Ceremonies

_Just the two of us_  
     We can make it if we try  
     -- Just the two of us, Bill Whithers

The doorbell to Nick's loft sounded loudly and continually, waking Nick up – he had been sound asleep on the couch in the center of his loft.

Nick staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the video com on the wall next to the entrance.  He pressed the intercom button and grumbled, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Nick!  Wake up, c'mon, get with it.  Let me up."  It was Nick's new temporary partner at the 96th, Wade Everett.  _[FK, the Continuing Story, WD]_   Wade entered the room complaining loudly, "C'mon, hurry up.  I’ve got to 'get you to the church on time'.  As it is, we'll just about make it.  How could you fall asleep with this whole thing coming up.  Sheesh!"  He grabbed Nick, the tuxedo boxes, the ring box, and so on.  "Move it, man, move it," Wade said as he pushed Nick out the door.

* * * * *

It was a truly gorgeous evening.  The sun was just setting with a beautifully colored sunset.  The waning light flooded into the cathedral spectacularly through its Rose Window.  The church was filled almost to over-flowing with flowers of all types, but with red ones predominating.  Nevertheless, the Nave was lined with a white carpet from the back to the front, all the way up to the altar, with white streamers strung along the pews, with bouquets on stands decorating the otherwise simple ends of the pew rows.

The place was packed solid with friends, acquaintances, co-workers, and one large group of oddly hungry, somber, and uncomfortable looking people from a local entertainment establishment the groom liked to frequent, although the cadre of folk from the coroner's office had its own set of peculiarities. 

Captain Reese and his wife Denise stood in the front pew with their two children, the older, Tammy, looked enviously towards the back trying to see Natalie, while the Reeses' son fidgeted.  Many of the Police Division's officers were in full dress, giving an even more opulent and formal feeling to the occasion.

Tracy Vetter, Nick's former partner sat in the back with her friend (and close companion) Javier Vachon.  Tracy was beaming in anticipation of the ceremony; Vachon simply looked uncomfortable in the suit Tracy had insisted he wear.

* * * * *

The organ, sounding like a full orchestra, had been playing Bach and later romantic composers grandiloquently, setting a high and formal tone.  The "Bridal Chorus" from Wagner's _Lohengrin_ ("Here comes the Bride" for most English speakers) began and the processional started.

Grace Balthazar, the bride's chief assistant and friend, appeared at the rear of the church, dressed in a long, flowing, red gown and holding a bouquet of white roses, each of which set off her warm, brown skin.  She was followed by the bride's sister in law, Sara, and her niece, Amy, who had flown in for the occasion from western Canada where they had moved years ago.  Each was dressed to the nines in long, lighter red, but not quite pink, gowns and also holding bouquets of white roses.  This was turning into the wedding of the century!

The groom, Nicholas de Brabant Knight, dressed in his full police regalia, turned at the sound of the music pouring fourth to look up the long aisle to the back of the church.  He shifted uncomfortably back and forth on his feet.  Wade, his best man for the wedding, placed his hand on Nick's shoulder and looked at him with raised eyebrows which implied the question: are you alright?  Nick swallowed, nodded, and mumbled "Yes", and gave Wade a weak smile.  Wade grinned widely and whispered, "You'll be o.k., think of something distracting like your step-father and handed Nick a red hankie.

Nick replied, "You're a bundle of laughs, you are," but took the hankie and touched his forehead.  He then turned his attention back to the rear of the church from where the procession was proceeding.  He stood at the very front of the church and before the altar, with the priest or minister facing away from the principals and the crowd, although one could see that he was decked out in the fullest religious robes possible.

The bride, Natalie Lambert, night coroner for the City of Toronto, co-worker to most of those in the crowded cathedral setting, walked into the light in a resoundingly white wedding gown, holding a bouquet of red roses.  She looked gorgeous: her hair was done up in a high chignon, with red roses woven in.  A few of the more unsophisticated members of the audience started to applaud, but this was quickly squelched by the more cognoscenti of the crowd.  As she strode towards the front, streamers of red ribbons trailed along behind her from the roses; they were as long as the train of her gown.

* * * * *

Natalie continued slowly down the aisle in time with the music which swelled in glory as she approached the front.  No one seemed to notice that the trail of ribbons falling straight down from the flowers seemed to leave a trail of red petals, or at least spots of color, red in color, deep red in color, on the carpeting, trailing the bride.  This should have been noticed because of the high contrast of the very white runner, and the very, very red of the petals of, what? blood? 

Our groom Nicholas offered her his hand which she took and all participants in the ceremony, turned to face the front of the amazingly decorated church, and looked at the back of the priest who had yet to turn around.

* * * * *

The Priest lifted his arms up with his upper arms horizontal and his forearms pointing up vertically, and slowly turned to face the couple, the participants, and the crowd.

Time seemed to slow to a stop: the priest had a black shirt on under his robes with a small but longish sword as a tie-tack sort of ornamentation.  The stern look and face of Lucien LaCroix looked at the bridal couple.  His eyes were golden.  He smiled.  His fangs were exposed in his laughing grin.

Nick's jaw opened wide – his fangs not showing.  Natalie's eyes opened wider than anyone could reasonably believe.  Grace looked towards the man with her eye-brows raised in surprise; Wade looked out quizzically and started to giggle.

* * * * *

"ARRRRrrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhh!" Nick stood straight up from the couch.  He found himself standing with his shins having hit the coffee table in front of the couch. He winced.  He felt his face; it was covered with bloody sweat.  He tried to gasp for some air, realized he was standing, and sat down – hard – and shuddered.  He got back up, walked over to his refrigerator for a bottle (Cow's blood, a fresh vintage though).  But he turned and went to the bar first and grabbed a bottle of 180 proof liqueur; he felt the need to add something exceptionally strong.

* * * * *

Nick was interrupted by a pounding on the loft door.  He got up to answer, shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs that had formed there.

"Nick?  Nick, it's me, Nat.  Are you alright?" she said through the door.  "You were shouting," she added as Nick opened the door.  "C'mon, you were going to pick me up on the way into work today.  Are you o.k?."

Nick opened his eyes, "Uh, hi, Nat.  I guess I was really out of it.  You know, the sleep of the 'dead'."

"Nick!  Let's get going, I know you don't need it, but I want to get some coffee and a donut before going into work.  Plus, we need to drop Sydney off at the Vet.  Poor baby, it's his annual check-up.  Bring your little flask along – Yeah, yeah, I know, but you've got to get something and the last few protein shakes haven't worked out so well, I think.  Are you sure you're all right?"

"Thanks, Nat," he said as he got up and got his things together "Yeah, let's get going.:

As they walked towards the loft door Nick said, "Let me tell you about this dream I was having . . . ."

Cup-ability

_If only you believe like I believe, baby_  
        We'd get by  
     If only you believe in miracles, baby  
        So would I.  
     -- Miracles, Jefferson Airplane

The doorbell to Nick's loft sounded, loudly and continually, waking Nick up – he had been sound asleep on the couch in the center of the loft.

Nick staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the video com on the wall next to the entrance.  He pressed the intercom button and grumbled, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Delivery, sir, you need to sign for it," said the delivery man.

"Uh, yeah, o.k.  Can you bring it up?" he asked.

"Sure, how do I –"

Nick pressed the buzzer admitting the man to the building's vestibule, "Just push the 'up' button."

He waited the few seconds for the elevator to arrive and opened the doors.

The man handed him a small package wrapped in plain brown paper and a tablet with a form with a space for his signature which he signed and handed back to the delivery guy.  He reached into his pocket looking for some bills for a tip, but the man said, "No, thank you sir, but we aren't allowed to accept tips."  Nick nodded and sent the man and the elevator back down to the ground floor.

* * * * *

Nick sat at his table looking at the package.  There was no return address.  Since he wasn't particularly hungry, he decided to forego breakfast and tore the packaging open to find a small box with a note attached.

"You probably never expected to hear from me," the note read, "but since I found this, I've thought of nothing but you.  You're probably surprised that I'm still around.  Your 'friend' didn't kill me; instead he brought me over.  I know you aren't directly responsible for bringing me across, but it's what I wanted, and I know you don't want it, so maybe I can thank you with this.  I don’t think it will really help, but that's up to you."

It was signed "Alyce".

Nick looked dumbfounded.  As far as he knew Alyce had died in the fire at his loft years ago, although he knew that LaCroix had actually bitten and drained her during the melee.  Or, so he had thought. _[Dark Knight, Season 1]_

He opened the box carefully with a bit of trepidation.  Whatever was in it was securely wrapped and protected.  He took the item out from the mass of Styrofoam popcorn and slowly unwrapped it.

It was a finely carved jade Mayan cup with the subtle designs on it that Nick recognized immediately.

<<My god,>> he thought.  <<Alyce alive, AND a vampire.  And now, another cup!  My god!>>

He set the cup down on the edge of the table next to her note.  <<Would he be able to borrow his other cup from the museum?>> he wondered.  He thought that it would really be no problem; besides, he could always steal it if he had to.

He got up, went over to his fridge, got a bottle of blood out of it and a glass from his cupboard.  A thousand thoughts were going on in his head, as he nervously poured some of the 'wine' into the glass which he immediately put down on the table as well, next to the new found Mayan cup.

<<I've got to tell Natalie,>>  He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and started dialing her phone number.  As he did so, he reached for his glass of blood, but being as nervous and excited as he was over this surprising development – and a possible cure for his vampirism – he missed the glass but hit the cup with just enough force to make it wobble, slowly spin towards the table's edge, and go over it.

Nick watched in dumbfounded horror as the cup, seemingly in slow motion, descended towards the hard, concrete floor of the loft.   He screamed aloud, "No, NO!!!"

A small, tinny voice emerged from his cell phone speaker, "Nick?  Nick, is that you?"  It was Natalie, answering his call.

* * * * *

Suddenly he was aware of a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.  "Nick?  Nick, it's me, Nat.  Are you alright?  You were going to pick me up on the way into work today.  Wake up, Nick, you're moaning and groaning."

Nick's eyes shot open.  "What?  Natalie!"  He was quiet for a moment, then gasped out, "Oh, no!" stood up and looked about himself and the loft.  There was no package, no note, no wrappings, no . . . no cup.  And all this before his first cup of nourishment for the day.  This did not bode well for the coming work-shift.

"Nick?" Natalie asked again as she picked up her convenience store coffee – she liked a good, strong cup first thing.

"I'm alright, Natalie," he said dejectedly, "Bad dream, I guess.  Oh, really bad.  Sorry."  He sat back down on the couch, hard.

"It's o.k., Nick, as long as you're all right.  Hey, I know you don't want coffee, but I brought an extra egg & muffin.  Would you like to try it?"

He just looked at her and said, "No."  He waited a few seconds, smiled sadly, and added, "Uh, thanks."

Book'em, Danno!

_All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity_  
     Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind  
     -- Dust in the Wind, Kansas

The doorbell to Nick's loft sounded, loudly and continually, waking Nick up – he had been sound asleep on the couch in the center of the loft.

Nick staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the video com on the wall next to the entrance.  He pressed the intercom button and grumbled, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Delivery, sir, you need to sign for it," said the delivery man.

"Uh, yeah, o.k.  Can you bring it up?" he asked.

"Sure, how do I –"

Nick pressed the buzzer admitting the man to the building's vestibule, "Just push the 'up' button."

He waited the few seconds for the elevator to arrive and opened the doors.

The man handed him a medium-sized, flat package wrapped in plain brown paper with what looked like a ton of postage on it, along with a tablet with a form with a space for his signature which he signed and handed back to the delivery guy.  He reached into his pocket looking for some bills for a tip, but the man said, "No, thanks, sir; we aren't allowed to accept tips."  Nick nodded and sent the man and the elevator back down to the ground floor.

* * * * *

Nick sat at his table looking at the package.  The return address was some place in Germany which he didn't recognize.

<<It's too early for this crap,>> he thought grumpily to himself.  Since he wasn't particularly hungry he decided to skip his breakfast nosh, and he tore the wrapping off to find a box with a note attached.

"Dear Nick," the note read, "I found this book and I knew you would want it right away.  I haven't used any of my translation skills in so long that I couldn't figure it out, but I know you'll know what to do.  I hope it works for you.  We are all well, and would love to see you again.  Let us know how it works out."  It was signed, "Love, Lily".

Nick sat at the table and opened the box.  There it was, an ancient book, but one in extremely frail condition.  He looked at the title and traced the embossed letters with his fingers.  He thought, <<To hell with breakfast, I need a stiff drink for this," and he got up and made himself a large glass of vodka to which he added at least half as much blood from his store in his fridge.

He read the title to himself: Abarat.  _[1966, Season 2]_

<<Could it be,>> he wondered, <<Could it really be?>>  He leafed through the dusty pages glancing at the letters.  He couldn't readily read them since they were in the ancient Sanskrit script, but a few of the words came through to his memory.

He found the page he was looking for.  It seemed a little too easy, actually.  He hadn't expected it to read: How to Cure a Vampire, but from what he could make out, that's practically what it said.  A quick glance down the page would indicate that it was relatively simple and straight-forward.  He shivered with anticipation.  He tried to pick the particular page up, but it separated from the rest of the book and was turning to dust as he held it.  He looked at the crumbling page trying to memorize it as it drifted into dust in his hands.

* * * * *

His concentration was interrupted by a pounding on the loft door.  He was wondering what it was when he felt someone grab his shoulder.

"Nick?  Nick, it's me, Nat.  Are you alright?  You were talking something fierce in your sleep.  C'mon, you were going to pick me up on the way into work today.  Wake up, Nick."

Nick opened his eyes, and sat up slowly, "Uh, hi, Nat.  I guess I was really out cold – so to speak.  Hah!"

"Nick!  Let's get going, I know you don't need it, but I need coffee and a donut before going into work.  Bring your little flask along – Yeah, yeah, I know, but you've got to get something and I know how your really feel about the protein."

"Thanks, Nat," he said as he got up and figuratively brushed himself off, "Yeah, let's get going. 

As they walked towards the loft door Nick said, "Let me tell you about this weird dream you interrupted . . . ."

Ding, Dong, the Don Ain't Dead!

_Who are you?_  
     Who, who, who, who?  
     . . . .  
     I woke up in a Soho doorway  
     A policeman knew my name  
     He said "You can go sleep at home tonight  
     If you can get up and walk away"  
     -- Baba O'Reilly, The Who

The doorbell to Nick's loft sounded, loudly and continually, waking Nick up – he had been sound asleep on the couch in the loft's center.

Nick staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the video com on the wall next to the entrance.  He pressed the intercom button and grumbled, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Delivery, sir, you need to sign for it," said the delivery man.

"Uh, yeah, o.k.  Can you bring it up?" he asked.

"Sure, how do I –"

Nick pressed the buzzer admitting the man to the building's vestibule, "Push the 'up' button."

He waited the few seconds for the elevator to arrive and opened the doors.

Nick's heart would have stopped if it had been beating at all.

* * * * *

"Howdy, Partner," said the familiar voice.

"Schanke!" Nick exclaimed, and left his mouth hanging open.

"Hey, can a guy get an invite inside?" he asked.

Nervous, dumbfounded, puzzled, Nick said, "Of course, of course, come in, come in.  Oh, my god!" and he embraced his old, and presumed dead, partner, Don Schanke.  _[Black Buddha, season 3]_

But, he noticed something odd.  Don was cool.  No, not hip like the Fonz was cool; no, not reserved like his wife Myra would get if he didn't agree to go vacationing where she wanted to.  Actually cool in temperature.  Then he noticed that there was no heart-beat either.

Don recognized the look on Nick's face.  "I guess you want some explanation, huh?"

Nick stumbled back and walked over to his couch, motioning for Schanke to sit in one of the side chairs.  "It'd be nice, Don," he said, and looked at the man (?) expectantly.

"Well, the quickest way to tell you what happened is this," and he vamped out – eyes turned red-gold and fangs descended.

"So, how's about a cuppa?  It's been a long day, waiting till it was dark enough to come over here.  I haven't had any breakfast yet, and even that cow's swill you got in the fridge would be welcome.  Hey, you know you're lucky I never opened a bottle of that stuff while I was alive—"

"Schanke!  You haven't changed a bit"

"Aw, c'mon, Nick, I've changed a whole hell of a lot."

"You know what I mean.  Now what happened and how . . . ."  Nick was more or less at a loss for words.

* * * * *

"It was during the plane's bombing.  The explosion had gone off but we were still in the air.  The cabin was more or less intact, and this Spanish guy behind me ripped off his seat belt and shouted out, "Screw this, I need more blood to survive this," and sunk his teeth into my neck.  "That's an amazing feeling, Nick.  Did it affect you that way when you were brought across?  It's the most sensual thing I'd ever felt.  Hell, it was even better than –"

"Schank!  Please."  Schanke stood up and began walking around the couch and chairs.

"Oh, yeah, well now you know why I asked to come in."

"Schanke, that's just a legend."

"Hey, works on me.  Anyway, the plane fell apart, I fell out and my body landed miles from the crash site – wasn't anybody surprised not to find any remains?   So, I woke up in a farmer's field – geez, I didn't know they still had cow pastures this close in to downtown Toronto—"

Nick growled lowly, "Schanke - - -"

"Uh, yeah, yeah.  I woke up in this field and was hungry like you wouldn't believe – or, ha ha, maybe *you* would – o.k.,o.k., don't rush me.  I woke up in this field, hungry as all get out, and this farmer had come running over to see what happened.  He helped me up, and I just grabbed his neck and sank my fangs in.  Hey, does conversion usually happen that fast?  I figured _if I could get up and walk away, I might just go home,_ but then I thought about what I'd just done, and figured I'd kill Myra; so I thought maybe I'd better disappear for a while. Oh, wait, wait, *I*'m telling this.  A little later, I apparently killed off his whole family.  You must'a read something about it in the paper, a whole family being killed by some crazed serial killer.  But you didn't realize it was your old, best friend and partner!  Huh?"

Nick just sat there on the couch with his head in his hands, slowly shaking it back and forth.  Don had suddenly become quiet, and when Nick looked up, he wasn't there.  Had he flown off suddenly, or, or, . . . or what? Nick wondered.  He looked around, the loft was empty, he couldn't feel anyone living nor any vampire presence either.

* * * * *

Nick was interrupted by a pounding on the loft door. 

"Nick?  Nick, hello, it's me, Nat.  Are you alright?  C'mon, you were supposed to pick me up on the way into work today."

Nick opened the door, "Uh, hi, Nat.  I guess I was asleep.  Gee, I had the strangest dream, oh, good, you brought something to eat.  Let me get a cup of breakfast and I'll tell you all about it.  Guess who I dreamt showed up at the door . . . ."

 

It Was Dark and Stormy, Knight

_I'd like to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste.  
     -- Sympathy for the Devil, The Rolling Stones _

The doorbell to Nick's loft sounded, loudly and continually, waking Nick up – he had been sleeping soundly on the couch in the center of his loft.

Nick staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the video com on the wall next to the entrance.  He pressed the intercom button and grumbled, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Nicholas," came the commanding voice he knew only too well, "Let me in, boy.  I have remarkable news for you."

Nick responded, completely puzzled, "LaCroix?  I thought you were out of the country.  What do you want?"

"To come in, my dear boy, to come in.  Now open up, I have news for you of great consequence."

Nick pressed the buzzer admitting the man to the building's vestibule, "Just push the 'up' button."

He waited the few seconds for the elevator to arrive and the doors opened. 

"LaCroix, why didn't you just fly in the clerestory window?  Why wake me –"  He stopped himself as a surprisingly ruddy LaCroix looked at him. 

Nick noticed something odd.  LaCroix was warm.  No, not kind and affable like a good-hearted friend, but actually warm in temperature.  Then he noticed that there was a heart-beat as well.

LaCroix recognized the surprise on Nick's face.  "I assume that you would appreciate some sort of explanation, _n'est pas_?"

Nick stumbled back and walked over to his couch, motioning for LaCroix to sit in one of the side chairs.  "That would be nice, LaCroix," he said, and looked at the man (?) expectantly.

"Well, the quickest way to tell you what happened is this," and he handed Nick a copy of the book that Nick had been looking for for so long, the Abarat.  _[Season 2, see above]_  "I read the book – it was not that easy to decipher the words, but not all that hard either – and, in a way, unfortunately for me, I found that the 'recipe', so to speak, is not really a recipe, but rather a 'chant'.  And it takes effect immediately upon the vampire who reads it, whether, I may say, they like it or not.

"I felt my temperature rise, my heart started beating . . . .  Initially, I was not pleased.  I have come to grips with it, however, and it is sweet to feel the warmth of the sun on one's face.  And, I am embarrassed to admit it, the warmth of the Son on one's soul.  I come to apologize to you Nicholas and to offer you this cure as well.

"But, do it quickly, then we can go to get a breakfast.  There is a restaurant near-by here that serves breakfast 24 hours a day.  I have learned to soooo like sausage and fresh eggs.  We never had anything like that in the Empire.  And the spices . . . ." 

LaCroix droned on.  Nick wasn't sure what was happening.  This was too unreal to be believed.  LaCroix human!  After all Nick's effort to find a cure!  The irony of LaCroix coming across it, and then to offer it to him as well, and finding religion!?!?!  No, no, this couldn't be happening.

* * * * *

Nick was interrupted by a pounding on the loft door. 

"Nick?  Nick, hello, it's me, Nat.  Are you alright?"

Nick sat up on the couch.

"Heh-LOW-oh!  Nick!  You were going to pick me up and we'd go in to work together today."

Nick stumbled up, "Coming.  Wait a minute!"  <<Oh, no,>> he thought as he worked his way over to the door, and groggily opened it.

"Uh, hi, Nat.  Sorry, I guess I was asleep.  Gee, my god, I had the weirdest dream.  Let me get a cup of breakfast and I'll tell you all about it.  You're not gonna believe it: It was LaCroix _and_ he was human – "  Natalie's eyes widened at this.  "Yeah, talk about impossible . . . ."

Oh, No, Not You, Too

_She was a long cool woman in a black dress_  
     Just-a 5'3", beautiful, tall  
     -- Long, Cool Woman, The Hollies

The doorbell to Nick's loft sounded, loudly and continually, waking Nick up – he had been sound asleep on the couch in his loft's center.

Nick staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the video com on the wall next to the entrance.  He pressed the intercom button and grumbled, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Nichola'," came the soft, lightly accented voice he knew very, very well, "Let me in, mon cher.  I have remarkable news for you."

Nick responded, completely puzzled, "Janette!  Janette, you're alive!  We thought –" _[The Human Factor, Season 3]_

"Nichola', be sweet, just buzz me in and I'll tell you all about it."

* * * * *

Nick, suddenly awake and suddenly thinking for a change, said, "Uh, Janette, have you by any chance had breakfast yet?"

 

"Nick?  Nick, it's Nat.  What's going on?  You were supposed to pick me up on the way into work this evening."

Nick looked at the screen again, and the visual morphed from the pale and dark Janette into the round faced and brunette Natalie.  It was Natalie's voice not Janette's that he was hearing.

"Uh, sure, Nat," Nick said, his mind still a bit fuzzy and puzzled, "C'mon up."  He continued when she got into the loft, "Oooo.  I must have had some bad blood last night, let me get a cup of 'you know' and I'll tell you what happened . . . ."

* * * * *

 _Sweet dreams are made of these_  
     Who am I to disagree?  
     -- Sweet Dreams, the Eurythmics


End file.
